never changing freedom
by intoxicating.light
Summary: "There is no freedom in this world." Freedom is far too relative; she may be away from the tower but that doesn't mean she is free. - ...Erza finds that even without chains on her wrists no amount of change will grant her freedom. (Part three of my freedom series- can be read stand alone)


Change is _inevitable_.

Humans grow in age and height; they discard childish fantasies instead setting their minds on achievable goals.

Whether for better or for worse, you cannot avoid change.

(Sometimes when she wipes blood off her swords she hates change more then she hates him.)

Erza Scarlet's existence could be compared to the sunset above the horizon.

A soft brush of warm pinks and oranges lighting up the sky before changing into a swarm of deep crimson red, coating the world in fury and rage. The change is inevitable as the scarlet fades away, mixing into the dark night, only bright stars and blue waters left in her wake. She is like war, biblical and proud, harsh and abrasive, only to fade away into the scars of battles fought and won. Forever changing and growing, forgotten, and then replaced.

To survive, you must adapt, she learns to adapt.

Keep your mouth shut, don't let your exhaustion show in the face of your captors.

Learn to keep your tears at bay and clean your injuries.

Train your body till you can wield two swords at once, take enemies down with ease.

Hideaway, the terrified little girl inside behind a shield of armor.

* * *

At age twelve, she accepts a job request to take down a group of bandits who had been abducting young children growing into their power. Finding the group wasn't hard, baiting herself as weak and frail, the minute the bandits believed they could knock her out; she attacked.

That day she changed, years ago she ran as fast as her legs could take her, trying to hide from the dark men.

Now she takes a deep breath, and-

_Jump. Left hook. Dodge. Requip. Sidestep. Lunge. Thrust. Right kick. Strike. Backflip. Again. _

A series of martial art techniques while striking with her sword. Harsh kicks play across her ribcage as she prepares to flip herself backwards; digging her hands into the ground to support her aching body as she requips another weapon. Focusing on her surroundings, she runs as fast as she can to attack one of the men from behind, all of her strength put into her legs as she kicks him in the chest, using the opening to sidestep.

She repeats her actions over and over, as pain goes unnoticed; bruises form across her arms, all she can comprehend at this moment is the evil in front of her. She fights with all of her strength until each one of them is down on the ground, blood drips down her split lip.

_How she wishes she could fight off the sly smirk that plays across her face._

That night she sits in the dormitory bathroom while everyone else sleeps, a reflection of a girl she does not recognize stares back at her, she has undeniably changed.

Her short hair she struggled to tie up now falls past her shoulders, held together in a tight braid.

Milky skin once covered in dirt and grime has been replaced by bruises and scars.

A large white patch covering her eye is gone, now in its place is an eye that refuses to shed a single tear.

She welcomes this change with open arms; it's what will keep her alive and allow her to achieve her goals.

Yet as she looks into cold and calculating brown eyes, she can't help but see his _eyes_.

They reflect anger and disdain for the world, passion for a singular goal that they have dedicated themselves to. It's almost funny that even now, on opposite sides waiting for the fight to come, they are connected. If fate truly exists, then this is the cosmic joke of the century, they are blue and red, good and evil, weak and strong, friend and foe, even with an ocean separating them they are forever connected.

He bares her scarlet on his face, and she is marked with his azure on her arm. They have both changed. She is getting stronger while he gets powerful, a king building a tower while a knight fights to tear it down.

She is changing, loathing his exitance-

And she hates it; because hating him means hating herself; they have always been far too similar.

She hates that as she reads books on the R-System that she imagens him crumbling in defeat and despair for the dream that could never be achieved, but as she watches fireworks go off in the most magnificent colors all she wants is for him to experience the beauty as well.

She hates that she is exactly like him.

He wanted her to live in his new world but then wanted her to be haunted by guilt for the rest of her life.

She wants to destroy all of his hard work but wants him to see the world with her.

Why must they keep changing yet always remain the same?

"_There is no freedom in this world_."

Is she starting to lose her grip on humanity?

"_True freedom exists with me_."

Like always, he is right but misguided; her freedom in not in Zeref but him. He alone is what keeps her stuck in a never-ending tsunami of confusion and hatred. He is why she cannot find comfort in the care of others. Her freedom has always been tied to him, just as his sanity is tied to her.

Changing and growing, love and hate, a viscus cycle she cannot _escape_.

* * *

To an onlooker, the sight of a young redheaded girl surrounded by books in the magic library would be nothing unusual; perhaps she is trying to study her magic better. Of course, if you looked closer at the books around her, you could assume that she was falling into the dark arts, countless books ranging from the history of Zeref to human resurrection. She spends months finding every single book she can that mentions the tower, leaving town to find old stores with books hidden away, searching old Magic Council documents she can get her hands on. Somedays, it's sickening, stories of demons and deadly weapons written by people in their last moments, she wants to throw up, but she can't; she has to find her answers.

In the end, it's both a blessing and a curse.

There had been seven previous towers destroyed; _their_ tower was never noticed. She learns Jellal can't gather enough magic power, a part of her is ecstatic that it's not possible, he cannot bring back the uncontrollable mage. Yet she feels so much pain in her heart; she loves him as much as she hates him, Jellal will never be able to find the joy in his work. He is trapped in a tower that will never be completed.

It hit's her one day as she continues to read about the dark lord her counterpart has fallen corrupt to that she may not be able to bring him back to the light. She _loathes_ him but _loves_ him just the same; the fact that she may have to fight him until his dying breathe is sickening, but if she must, then she shall die with him. Her dreams of marriage and a family fade away, replaced by images of a broken tower and two partners dying in the wreckage, perhaps this is how it was always meant to be.

A stream of tears falls down one side of her face; only one eye can cry for him just as only one part of her can genuinely hate him. The contract between light and dark, good and evil, life and death are what define them.

She is changing, molding into a young woman with hate in her eyes and love in her heart.

Growing into a warrior, the type of person who can land vital hits on those who stand in her way.

Learning the truth of the world while she holds fantasies in the back of her mind.

_If only it weren't all tied to him._

It seems even now her freedom is still locked away, and she thinks maybe; _that might never change._

* * *

**Notes:**

Writing fight scenes is not my strong suit sadly, but I'm trying to improve so, please excuse this mess.

The next chapter is meeting Siegrain and then I'll move on to the canon storyline.


End file.
